


Treasure en Route

by itsfelix



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Bartering, Dubious Consent, F/M, Hand Jobs, Imprisonment, Kink Meme, Manipulation, Prompt Fill, Public Sex, Seduction, Semi-Public Sex, Sharing Body Heat, Slavery, Smut, Vaginal Sex, fluff if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24210835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsfelix/pseuds/itsfelix
Summary: Prompt: "One of the wives is born and raised as a "peasant" at Gas Town or the Bullet Farm. But she's healthy and pretty and everyone knows she's destined to become one of Immortan Joe's wives. She's seen Joe from a distance and knows he's an old man. She also knows his wives are kept locked away from the rest of the world.As a party of war boys escort her to the Citadel, she realizes this is her only or last chance to be with a man other than Immortan Joe (maybe it's not common knowledge that the wives get kicked out if they don't bear a kid?) and attempts to seduce one of the War Boys."
Relationships: War Boy(s)/Original Character, War Boy(s)/The Wives (Mad Max), War Boy/OC
Kudos: 24





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I found this thing I wrote yeaaaars ago. Better to fix it up and post it now rather than later. Here it is with minor edits to help make it more readable.
> 
> Original Prompt and Fill is here:  
> https://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/1730.html?thread=1411010

“—her too. Consider it a gift for ‘Mortan Joe.” The Bullet Farmer waved and she was exchanged easily to the strange group of men.

The burly tanned man with black substance over his eyes and forehead scanned her over and handed the chain from her cuffs to a lackey. His numerous orders were quickly carried out.

Her time had come. She was swept into a flat bed on the back of a truck, a cage melded onto the hull to keep her inside, another skeleton man coming inside to secure her and watch her on the two benches.

She was on edge from all the confusion and movement. She knew they were from the Citadel because of their uniform and paint, there was no mistaking it. And she knew why they had picked her.

Her shiny hair and soft features caught the eye of the everyone, even the Bullet Farmer, despite her covers blackened by soot. The whispers had come up the ladder and he sent men to catch her. She remembers how quick and…expected it had been. She spent a brief time in captivity, trading away the last bullets she had for food and more blankets.

Now she was being whisked away. She doesn’t even know if she should be panicked or relieved. She just on edge. She’s hoping she’ll be special enough to be accepted as a wife. Could he refuse her as a gift if she wasn’t to his liking? The Immortan was an older man, old enough to be her father. She cringed. It’d be worth it though.

There were rumors in the alleys that the wives were living like royalty in a tower of rock, way at the top. ‘ _All the food and drink you could ever want. Enough water to swim in. And all they have to do is fuck an old man and give him kids_.’ That’s what they said.

She just had to hope that those rumors were true. She didn’t know about pregnancy or giving birth, but in this place, it was a ticket to a better life.

Sure she had done favors for essential items in the past, but she had made sure they never gave her a child. Now to be expected to be used as a breeder…she didn’t like the thought. Being a breeder usually meant no pleasure, and in this world she wanted to steal all the short-lived pleasure she could get.

_This is my last chance._

The truck’s violent acceleration jolted her out of her thoughts. The skeleton man, who was most definitely made of flesh, swayed from the movement as well. He looked like the rest of them. Pale white paint and the only blackness on him was in his eye sockets and the lines across his lips.

There were strange scars across his cheekbones and something going along his arm, something mechanical burned and scarred permanently. She guessed he was about the same age as the rest of the skeleton lackeys, and the large lump on the side of his neck. They really do look all too similar, especially the sickness that united them to their brothers and kept them apart from those from the Bullet Farm and Gas Town.

At the Bullet Farm, people like her in the slums kept themselves under many layers, like they were being engulfed. It was to keep the cold out, to keep their possessions hidden too. Their entire life was kept close to them. Heads were wrapped with hats and scarves, leaving much to the imagination. Seeing so many men going about with so little was jarring. Their trousers were heavy with their tools and strips of cloth. There were strange scars on their bare torsos and arms. Not like the bullet shaped ones she’d sometimes see.

The Wife-To-Be thought back to the Immortan, and the cage that rattled with every bump of the truck. She was certain they’d lock her up and she doubted anyone would let her out freely. She’d be stuck with him. Her skin crawled at the thought and she must have shown her disgust because the man stirred and glanced at her.

She quickly readjusted herself and casually turned to take in her surroundings, peering through the cage and the front windshield to see bikes in front, same as the ones behind. She caught the guard dipping his head to follow her gaze in her peripheral and she turned to meet his eyes.

Their eyes met, his eyes wide and the apple of his neck bobbing as he swallowed.

Oh. She thought. She knew that look. She could work her charm still.

Under that paint he didn’t look that bad. He was fit from labor and aside the obvious lumps he looked healthy. In fact, he looked somewhat attractive. Lovely pale eyes that caught the lowering sun. A mysterious pink scar ripping diagonally across his pec. Her gaze wandered to his belts and equipment, taking note of the pistol by this hip and the small canteen strapped tightly in a holster on his thigh.

She couldn’t just ask him for water. He looked like he wouldn’t take it kindly. As the sun was setting, she knew she’d be thirsty soon and she didn’t know how long they’d be driving. They weren’t speeding off, but they weren’t at a crawl either, most likely keeping vigilant in case of surprise attacks from Scavers trying to ambush them for the various goods from the haul.

Stretching out to rest, she cracked her eyes to peer at her guard.

It was nightfall and the trucks were slowing to a stop. She couldn’t stop shivering. More bodies moving and orders being barked. There was a lot of men scurrying and parking vehicles. The largest rig where the leader was stationed was parked in the center, and the truck she was riding in came to park close behind. Others came to encircle the rig and other important vehicles. Bikes set in-between and along the perimeter. Men were set on watch and the guard was summoned away for other duties.

A bang on the cage startled her as the guard jumped out and a new man hopped in, securing the latches. She curled up as they regarded each other.

The lackey that replaced him was slightly different looking, but had a harsher demeanor. She didn’t like how the lines on his lips were pink scars and how he had a chunk of his ear missing. She shivered again, cradling her cuffed wrists to her chest.

A far off voice called for two hour watches all through the night and the new guard sucked in his saliva and spat through the cage to the sand below.

He turned out to be an incompetent guard, looking off to rudely gesture toward the bikers and cackle at shouted jokes. He was busy engaging with his buddies and ignoring her. She turned away, shivering and huffing in annoyance.

By the time the next guard came to switch places it had grown even colder, the freezing night air seeping into the metal flat bed. She missed the first guard strangely enough. He had noticed her beauty and he showed interest in a distant way, so if she was to be stuck with an old man, she was hoping she could fool around with someone before they got to the Citadel.

Although, she had to be careful. She didn’t know if she’d be killed or if she’d be hurt. These men were clearly wild and more ferocious, so she had to be cautious about who she trusted to keep things secret. And being so close to where their leader was, they’d have to be incredibly sneaky about it too. She was sure the guard would be put to death swiftly if they were caught. She could feign innocence, but she wasn’t sure if it’d last forever.

Her thoughts faded away from her scheme when her stomach whined. She sighed knowing that her new guard was looking at her, this one being more alert. The camp was quiet and a bit dark, but it felt as though her world was now only within the cage.

She sat up and turned toward the guard, pretending to rub the sleep out of her eyes, “Um. Do you have anything for me to drink?” She asked, unable to ignore the pain in her belly and the dryness of her mouth.

The guard looked startled and pulled out his canteen and carefully swished the liquid inside it. It sounded like there was only a mouthful left. He handed it to her without hesitation.

“Take it.” His voice was a hash whisper, still sounded young. She hastily downed the last bit of the water, savoring the wetness and the coolness, but it wasn't enough to stop the growing that’d return.

She sighed, defeated, and returned the dented canteen back. She wanted to hear what else he could rasp into her ear.

“I’ll make sure the next one has more for you.” He whispered, her heart squeezed in delight and fascination. She thought he was being so quiet so none of his fellows could hear his kindness and shame him later for it. Or perhaps he was so quiet because she would soon be a Wife, a royal to these men.

Still, the exchange left heat coiling low in her belly. _Not yet, play along._

After quietly moving the chain into a neat pile by the back of the truck, she decided to sleep first and then get more water and hopefully the comfort of one of the men before she’d be locked up.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she fell asleep to visions of touching a painted body.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And part 2/2. Hope I didn’t make anyone act too weird or the dialogue wasn’t too stiff. The War Boy that mainly guards her is basically the one from the Blood Shed played by Russ McCarroll. Last guard at the end can be interpreted as the War Boy gunner on the Elvis car in case anyone was curious.

She woke to the sound of the guard being switched again and caught muttering among the two. Some time later the truck bounced slightly with him settling on the bench and the sound of the cage being closed and locked quietly.

She heard him check the mag for his gun and she was almost offended. She was cuffed and dehydrated, she could fight if she wanted, but right now all she needed was water and a good fuck, which she was confident she could get without conflict.

The Wife-To-Be groggily sat up, this time a shudder wracked her body as she left the small warmth of the floor around her. Phantom touches from callused hands faded from her dream.

It was colder above the edge of the truck’s side. She looked to see a familiar diagonal scar design along the chest of her guard and she sighed in relief. This was good. It was the timid first guard again.

“Do you have more water to spare?”

He cocked his chin to her, not meeting her eyes again, “Yeah, was told you’d need it.”

She nodded, deciding to act docile and go with it so she could fill her stomach. Perhaps he could satisfy her other thirst? She wasn’t sure yet.

He scooted close and began undoing the holster and unscrewing the cap. She caught him gulping again and she shifted her arms to show the skin below her neckline that her rags didn’t cover. She shivered again, wincing.

He noticed and handed the water cautiously.

“You..uh. You sick too?” She knew he was talking about the sickness they had, but there was no point in pretending to be sick. If she lied she’d be easily caught and the Immortal might not bother with her if she acted like she was diseased.

“No. Just freezing.” He looked away, tearing his eyes from her outstretched legs and peering over the truck’s side at the watch that was off to the side. _Too much to handle for him. Cute._

She quickly chugged some of the water, filling her belly with the cool liquid, chilling hot coals in her belly. There was still enough for him, she wasn’t cruel.

He put back the canteen in his holster and was about to get up from his kneeled position. She had to act quick.

“It’s so cold.” She stated, successfully halting him, “Can you keep me warm?”

He stared as he processed, the Wife-To-Be giving him a look in her eyes that conveyed more.

“I wanna thank you for the water.” She whispered lowly, nodding to the holster. He gulped again, checking around for wandering eyes. He was glad the truck was high up enough for it to be difficult for someone to look into the back without jumping. Was he about to beat Immortan to his rightful gift?

_It’d be fine if no one found out._

He shifted slowly and quietly, cursing under his breath as he tossed a glance to the leader’s rig parked not too far in front of them. He settled in on his side, resigned to what blasphemous action he about about to commit. She shimmied herself close, facing him, reaching for his arm to wrap around her. He slowly complied, clearly nervous about being caught as well.

_Is this new to him? Or is it because I’m a gift?_

She’d have to contemplate later, as the smell of sweat and guzzoline was demanding her acknowledgement. She brought her arms up and over his head to rest on the nape of his neck, her teeth chattered from the cool air hitting her. His eyes watched her carefully in the dark. She was careful not to bump her arm on the lump on his neck, and she was glad the slack in her arms gave him space.

He was burning like the furnaces that were in the bullet factory. It worried her a bit but also made her sink into him for more warmth, sighing at the pleasant change.

“War Boy, you’re so warm…” She whispered in a husky voice, trying to get a reaction out of him.

She felt the muscles in his arms and gut tighten when she pressed against him and she bit her lip. He couldn’t stop staring in the dark, though now more relaxed and less cautious. He exhaled through his nose and she even felt the hot puff on her forehead. The War Boy was committing everything to memory.

His finger twitched as he bumped his hip into her stomach, looking anywhere but her face. She felt his hardness press into her and she flicked her eyes up, in the most inviting gaze she could muster.

_Please please please I hope that’s not a wrench in his pocket._

He finally caught her gaze when she rubbed against him, seeing the whites of his eyes and the breath leaving his parted mouth.

There was quiet mumbling from him as he threw another glance at the rig in front, cursed under his breath about the Immortan and something called Valhalla. She felt him fumbling with her skirts and his own two belts. His eyes were shut in concentration as she hooked her leg over his hip and his hands gripped her thigh as he scooted lower and closer for them to meet. He tore off his glove, spat in his bare hand, and stroked himself. He was trembling slightly from excitement and fear. She was wet enough that his spit wasn't needed, but she was flattered.

He fumbled around more, struggling to find her entrance. There was a sense of desperation in both of them, like any minute they would be caught and right now they both needed to get off as quick as possible.

She reached to take his length and guide it into her and suddenly it was bliss. The stretch was just what she had been waiting for. She shushed his groan with a feral kiss, which he slowly returned. The War Boy groped her breast blindly and dug his fingers into her thigh, keeping her leg lifted. Despite his wild appearance he only reverently pressed his lips to her neck, face and arms. His paint tasted chalky.

The far off sound of men talking made them slow their rocking, which only made his hips stutter more from the overload of sensation.

_Not yet, not yet, not yet, fuck!_

She pushed into him, needing to feel him completely. She needed this. Her pulse was pounding, heating her body pleasantly all the way to her fingertips.

The voices soon faded into quiet, or as quiet as a camp full of sleeping men could get. There were still many awake and wandering.

He sneaked his groping arm around her lower back pressing her more into him. She bit back her groan and sloppily kissed him, her eyes rolling closed. She rocked into him with the help of his shaking arms. His mouth broke away and he muttered “—never been with a breeder—,” He panted quietly, “—so shiny..”

She couldn’t understand him, but that didn’t matter as he soon grunted and she quieted his choked moan with a deep kiss. He suddenly started to tense up and she hurriedly pulled his prick out of her and jerked him. His hand had a death grip on her hip and her slick sped him closer to his finish. Wife-To-Be tilted his length so the head was pressing just hard enough to her clit.

_Hot as fire and hard as steel._

Electricity was zinging up her spine, the sensation of another body tensing next to her and the smell of sweat alone was enough to drive her crazy. She still rut her hips over him, savoring his gloved grip and the sensation of him when he suddenly stilled.

His prick was throbbing delightfully against her, liquid fire shot against her, warming her even more. Wife-To-Be sighed when he pulled away. She went to wipe up the sticky mess under her dress and wrappings. 

_Gotta get rid of this dress as soon as we get there._

The War Boy exhaled shakily, tucked himself away, and redid his buckles, tiredly missing the belt holes twice. She removed her arm from around his sweaty neck and noticed the black lines on his mouth were slightly marred. She touched her mouth and he nodded, prompting her to scrub at her mouth with the corner of her sleeve.

He clearly looked tired, and she winced as she heard his joints cracking as she slowly got up and snuck back to the bench. He slouched and she smoothed out her now dirty rags and curled up to try to sleep more.

About an hour later she was stirred by the truck bouncing, and her guard being changed again. She brought up her head to see him undoing the lock. There was another bald head peeking out from the side of the truck. He risked a glance back and she gave a nod and a gentle smile, pressing a finger to her lips as a sign for keeping their secret.

_I won’t tell if you don’t._

His eyes met hers and he also gave a sharp nod in understanding before turning to slink out and to be replaced with another stranger. Mechanical parts scarred on the new guard’s chest, blackened forehead, same fingerless gloves.

She settled back down to catch more sleep as she could hear the camp starting to stir. She’d have a nice bed soon enough, hopefully. She could dream of the taste of chalk from her tower, if she ever made it there.


End file.
